The Ladies' Vase eBook

But was this their fault, or ours? Did they not
present themselves to us in the garb of mortal flesh?—­and
do we not know that mortals are imperfect?—­that,
however the outside be fair, the interior is corrupt,
and sometimes vile? He who knows all, alone knows
how corrupt it is! the heart itself, enlightened by
His grace, is more deeply in the secret than any without
can be; but if the thing we love be mortal, something
of it we must perceive; and more and more of it we
must perceive as we look closer. If this is to
disappoint and revolt us, and draw harsh reproaches
and bitter recriminations from our lips, there is but
One on whom we can fix our hearts with safety; and
He is one, alas! we show so little disposition to
love, as proves that, with all our complainings and
bewailings of each others’ faultiness, our friends
are as good as will, at present, suit us.

But are we, therefore, to say there is no such thing
as friendship, or that it is not worth seeking? morosely
repel it, or suspiciously distrust it? If we
do, we shall pay our folly’s price in the forfeiture
of that, without which, however we may pretend, we
never are or can be happy; preferring to go without
the very greatest of all earthly good, because it
is not what, perhaps, it may be in heaven. Rather
than this, it would be wise so to moderate our expectation,
and adapt our conduct, as to gain of it a greater
measure, or, as far as may be possible, to gather
of its flowers without exposing ourselves to be wounded
by the thorns it bears. This is only to be done
by setting out in life with juster feelings and fairer
expectations.

It is not true, that friends are few and kindness
rare. No one ever needed friends, and deserved
them, and found them not; but we do not know them
when we see them, or deal with them justly when we
have them. We must allow others to be as variable,
and imperfect, and faulty, as ourselves. We do
not wish our readers to love their friends less, but
to love them as what they are, rather than as what
they wish them to be; and instead of the jealous pertinacity
that is wounded by every appearance of change, and
disgusted by every detection of a fault, and ready
to distrust and cast away the kindest friends on every
trifling difference of behavior and feeling, to cultivate
a moderation in their demands; a patient allowance
for the effect of time and circumstance; an indulgence
towards peculiarities of temper and character; and,
above all, such a close examination of what passes
in their own hearts, as will teach them better to
understand and excuse what they detect in the hearts
of others; ever remembering that all things on earth
are earthly; and therefore changeful, perishable,
and uncertain.

KINDRED HEARTS.

Oh! ask not, hope thou not
too much
Of sympathy below;
Few are the hearts whence
one same touch,
Bids the same
fountain flow;
Few, and by still conflicting
powers
Forbidden here
to meet,
Such ties would make this
life of ours
Too fair for aught
so fleet.